The other day, my son asked when I became an adult. Since then, I’ve become obsessed with that question. The effort to name the particular moment has been bogged down in the thousands of moments in which I thought I had become an adult only to be greeted with a healthy dose of humility.

Growing up, I always thought I didn’t want children. I couldn't picture it. Everyone would tell me, “Just wait. You’ll change your mind.” I would respond with, “No, I’m not having kids—and if I do, I’ll adopt.”